


A Wayward Caterpillar

by PinkAxolotl85



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (???), Alientaurs, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Centaurs, Connor has eight legs in this you'll love it, Dragontaurs, Fluff, Gen, Includes ART!, Non-sexual Overstimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 19:32:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16144013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkAxolotl85/pseuds/PinkAxolotl85
Summary: It’s a big world for a small dragon, especially one as weird and with as many limbs as Connor.





	A Wayward Caterpillar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crescentjasper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescentjasper/gifts).



> For Jasper, the silly billy who got me dragged into this au that then consumed me. Written as Hank & Connor but meh, Hank / Connor peeps are welcome too.  
> Art is, of course, by [Jasper.](https://jasparagus.tumblr.com/)

     

 

     After Deviancy the world became much louder, much brighter, and much _much_ bigger. Sensors which were once centred on only certain things, disregarding others, now flew around loosely.

     Connor _could_ stop it.

     But doing that made him feel blind now, jittery and nervous for things he couldn’t see. Waiting to be snuck up on.

     But leaving them on made him feel overwhelmed, so many sounds, so many smells, so many sights to see and take it, everything was always too much.

     No way to moderate it or filter it, all or nothing. Nothing and he was scared, all and he wanted to claw his ears off.

     It left him constantly sat down, fiddling his fingers and each of his forelimbs claws together. Twisting his hands into his fur, dragging nails down fake skin.

     Coin tinking over plastic digits and nimble paws.

    And it was just _him_.

     Made for others to trust and love and care for, look harmless and - and _cute_. An adorable little being who lived on four sets of limbs.

     Nobody would trust a larger taur

     He hated it, being so small.

     But still he was small and overlooked, relatively short legs, long body, curling tail almost as long as him, he’d been called little dachshund or caterpillar so many time some must think it his real name at this point.

     They’d bump into him, pressing a foot down his tail before backing up and apologising, almost tripping over him for the nth time.

     Gavin would shove him around constantly, using a prehensile tail to drag him out of his way.

     His sharp claws scrabbling on the ground as he was pulled an pushed away. Nines had started to pick up that habit too, at least he was gentler about it.

     Gavin would physically step over him. Showing how small and weak Connor was and how much better he was. Exposing his underbelly and how much he didn’t care, showing he was still better even when showing a taurs ultimate weakness.

     Normally pushing his head down with a fore or hind limb as he did.

     Even though Connor had easily bested him in the evidence room, causing Gavin numerous new scars and a broken nose, that never affected anything between them though, _of course_.

     The bustling city was the worst, all he had to do was get some shopping.

     From the taxi, it wasn’t even that far. Hank had given him a list and had then walked off to do other shopping, doing it this way was Connors idea.

Be he _greatly_ regretted it now.

     There was a constant low level of chatter, burning into his ears. So many people were there talking, rattling their carts, claws scratching on the hard cold floor, he felt as sick as an Android could be.

     A low almost gurgling in a none-existant stomach, thick thirium, blocked throat.

     The shopping trolley turned out to be too tall, he settled to walking on his back limbs, leave his hands on the bar and first forelimbs gripping the too cold metal grating of the cart.

     He could barely reach anything Hank had asked for, even when settling on his hind limbs to get up, he couldn’t stomach the embarrassment of asking somebody to help.

     But that help came anyway, a taur seeing him reach for the soup cans on the highest shelf, they came over and grabbed it for him handing it to him with a smile. Of course, he fell back on social programs of politeness saying thank you.

     But he knew his face was flushed blue, LED flashing a too bright red.

     His thirium regulator, hidden between his two middle limbs picked up, sending pulses up and down his spine. The constant sensors sounding increasingly similar to white noise, giving him all the sensor information of nothing.

     He could still feel blue blush across his face, and every time his mind wandered back to that person, the blue came back full force.

     After that he was acutely aware of everybody around him, _looking at him._

     A small, involuntary, high pitched whine left his throat, a few more gazes and eyes fell down on him, making the whine in his throat climb even more.

     His lower limbs let go of the cart to fiddle together, they were the most hand-like of his other limbs twisting their finger-like digits around one another.

     Rocking back on his hind limbs, tail whipping against the ground and writhing back and forth. One more person brushed their tails against him as they passed, trolley rattling, and he almost cried.

     Pressing his hands over his ears he let go of the trolley completely.

     Uniform scratched at him and his limbs.

     He let out more and more whines before he stopped himself, clamping his second limbs over his mouth.

     At that same moment, Hank texted him that he was outside and if he’d come out yet.

_Hank._

   Hank was always there for him.

     Even when they’d first met he’d found a way to protect Connor. Maybe it was just paternal instinct, and his stupid _cute_ body and _face._

     But Hank had ended up seeing past that.

     He was the opposite of Connor in every way, big towering over the average taur, horns that curled back with age, and flightless wings that always rested half open.

     Nobody would ever talk to Hank, too scary, everything Connor was designed **not** to be.

     And Connor couldn’t help but soak it up.

     His perfect partner.

     Only a moment of worry was given to leaving the trolley behind before he did just that.

     He hated being so small, but at this very moment it wasn’t so bad, he weaved through the crowd easily, still flinching slightly at every touch.

     Slowing down at the almost empty exit doors he let himself look around for Hank, he didn’t have to look long as Hank was sitting on his hind legs near the trolley rack, phone in hand

     The little ping of ‘you alright in there?’ popped up in Connors systems. His thirium pump warmed.

     Connor bit his lip and slowly lowered the hands that were still covering his ears. Instantly they were fiddling with each other again, stupid, _stupid habit_.

     He let a quiet hum sound in his throat, anything to stop the irritating whines.

     Slowly he pawed towards the Hank, hoping he didn’t notice Connors lack of shopping bags and general incoordination.

     He looked like a mess, _a mess._

     When Hank looked up and saw Connor, overwhelmed tears in his eyes, he sat up instantly. Letting his front claws hit the ground thud.

     The moment he did so the few people near them moved away after a single look towards Hank, one mother hurrying her children along.

     Hank barely even took notice, but Connor certainly did.

     He wanted to tuck his hands back up over his ears, block out the mumbling and chatter.

     One look towards Hank said it all, the larger taur quickly hooked some of the shopping bags around his wing claw to free a hand, wrapping it around Connor's shoulder when he came close enough.

     Connor leaned into it eagerly as they both started to make their way to the auto taxis, leaving the shops parking lot behind them without a word.

     Every car that drove past them, with loud rumbling engines, still made Connor wince, his hated whines crawling up his throat. It wasn’t long before both of them were stumbling Connor catching their feet with how close he pressed himself up against Hank.

     And then Connor was under him.

     Hank had lifted a large claw and had pulled Connor under himself. The larger taur had averted his eyes immediately, obviously trying to look anywhere but Connor.

     Somehow, Hank was sanding light on feet, ready to back off at any instant. His legs spread out wide, too wide to be normal, giving Connor a way to refuse this ‘protection.’

     Let Connor back out and slink away, leaving them both to say awkward sorry’s to one another.

     No, Connor wouldn’t refuse this, Hank would be upset, and Connor didn’t want that.

     But… He also wanted this for himself. So, Connor let himself be selfish for just this one moment and pressed his back against Hank, letting them both relax into it.

     Wrapping his tail around one Hanks back legs, he didn’t hear him complain, so he went further, gripping sharp nails into the rough skin of a foreleg. Readjusting after every moment, every flinch of a passing car, every slight splash of puddle water sent up from them.

     After a bit, maybe even minutes, Connor moved forwards, trying to look less like a cowering child under a parent and more like a…. Not that.

     The position became easier for them both to hold after that, it was nicer too, Hank able to reach and brush his fingers through the Androids hair, still getting wet from the rain.

     Connor dragging his fingers over his shirt collar, cuffs and uniform, a nervous tic but it did bring one revelation; ‘Hank, my tie is wet.’

     He merely snorted and started moving forwards, letting Connor duck under a foreleg to retake his spot beside the larger. Hank had somehow moved the shopping bags back into his hands without Connor realising.

     It left his wing free to arch over Connors small frame, trickles of water running off it, keeping him dry, _well_ , keeping him from getting _wetter_.

     ‘Do you want me to carry a bag for you?’

     ‘I’m not gonna make you carry any of this heavy shopping.’

     He hissed in irritation, ‘ _Hank.’_

     And he only chuckled running a wing claw over Connor’s head, ‘C’mon, let’s go home.’

 

**Author's Note:**

> It’s fluffy, it’s stupid, it’s short, and I don’t care I love it.


End file.
